Vengadam is a born optimist and weaver of saris, but his lowly status means he can never afford the fashions he creates. At the birth of his daughter he pledges to wrap her in the finest silk on the day of her wedding, dismaying his community who believe that, if such a promise is not fulfilled, a curse will follow. Desperate to keep his word, he steals a thread of silk each day, weaving secretly each night. But when his access to the silk is jeopardized, Vengadam must find a way to keep from breaking his promise.

For contemporary cinema connoisseurs who missed on golden classics like Vittorio Di Sica’s The Bicycle Thief or Bimal Roy’s Do Bigha Zameen , here’s your chance to relive the neo-realistic era of cinema. No, Priyadarshan doesn’t continue his routine of rapid remakes but this time comes up with an exceptionally original work of art, making Kanchivaram fall in the same theme, genre and league of the aforesaid gems.

The film is also set in the same neo-realistic era of 1940s in a small village in Madras Province of South India which was famous for its silk-weaving art. The title Kanchivaram represents the name of the village and also the brand of the rich-textured silk sari that it produced. As per Hindu rituals silk is a symbol of sanctity and used for the purity of soul at two important events in a human’s life – marriage and death. Employing this holy belief as its backing, Priyadarshan weaves a basic human story with utmost precision, perfection and poignancy.

The story initiates with silk-weaver Vengadam (Prakash Raj) coming to his hometown Kanchivaram post his marriage. Ever since a child he made claims of getting home his bride in a silk sari but the poverty-struck situation of the silk-weaving community couldn’t turn his dream into reality. The affluent capitalist has been selling the silken creations to the British at whopping price and the weavers are not even paid peanuts.

As Vengadam turns father to a baby girl, he promises before the village to marry his daughter in a silk sari. While the villagers ridicule and forget his pledge, Vengadam is slowly and stealthily working towards creating one silk sari for his daughter over the years. Since affording silk is out of question, he starts stealing tiny threads of silk on a regular basis from workplace to the backyards of his house.

On a parallel note he is leading the villagers in the communist revolution and simultaneously also inspiring the weavers to oppose the oppression and exploitation of their merchant. How his individual activities collectively influence his daughter’s marriage and his assurance of gifting her one pure silk Kanjivaram sari forms the crux of the plotline.

Kanchivaram is one of the best written screenplays of Indian cinema. Every single character-conflict is convincing to the core. The story uses silk as its fundamental ingredient and is steadily tied with it throughout. Vengadam is unable to fulfill his childhood dream to get his bride home in a silk sari, has only a silk thread to perform his father’s last rites and works all his life to gift his daughter a Kanjivaram. The film highlights the irony that though a weaver handles silk all his life, he can’t afford one silk clothing to completely drape the live body or cover the dead, even if he works towards it for a lifetime.

To cover the lifespan of Vengadam and the consequent time-travel, the screenplay oscillates between present and the past portions in flashbacks. The technique was earlier employed in Kamal Hassan’s Hey Ram but works more effectively here. Simple scenes showing the first-sight of a motor car in the primeval village or the daughter crossing between an elephant’s legs are examples of expressive writing. Sabu Cyril gets out of his studio-confined art-direction for Priyadarshan’s recent spate of commercial films and designs an authentic ambience of the 40s era though the village setting doesn’t call for much pre-independent detailing. Tirru’s cinematography and Arun Kumar’s editing are immaculate. The movie employs minimum use of background score which acts to the film’s benefit.

Kanchivaram primarily works for two reasons – Priyadarshan’s heartrending direction and its lead protagonist Prakash Raj’s superlative act. As he expresses his wide gamut of emotions, he compulsively connects with the viewer making them smile, laugh and cry with him. Shreya Reddy as his wife and the actress playing the daughter’s role are equally brilliant.

The best part of Kanchivaram is that it gives us the great visionary Priyadarshan who once came up with Malayalam masterpieces like Kaala Paani and whom we lately lost to commercially driven comedy capers. Kanchivaram can give inferiority complex to the finest of the filmmakers. You won’t laugh at Priyadarshan anymore.